


In its way

by nojoking



Category: Chalion Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 07:35:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11664540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nojoking/pseuds/nojoking
Summary: The timing is in the length of the pause ......





	In its way

Bergon watched as Iselle led the cavalcade towards him and came over the hill to see the capital city of Ibra, now Ibra-Chalion, spread out before her. It glowed in the early evening sunshine as the sun lit up the whitewashed houses which spread over the hills to seaward and sunward. The city of Zagosur was looking its absolute best. Bergon was pleased to get the timing just right – and the late summer weather too.

The two largest buildings were the Palace and the Temple – both standing in a significant open space. To the peaceably-minded, this was so that happy crowds could attend any events at either place. To the more warlike, it was so that either or both places could be defended more easily as any attackers would have to cross open space – not forgetting the ditches and bastions at the Palace and at the corners of the Temple area.

But today was a day for pleasure. Bergon smiled happily that he had forecast the weather and they would arrive on a truly golden evening. Due to the complexities of life in the dual-kingdoms, Iselle had only visited Zagosur once before. That time, the weather was grey, damp, dull and despite the enthusiasm for the meeting, the dreary arrival had only been overcome by the Fox’s pleasure at meeting Iselle. And this time there was their daughter Isara who should be able to twist the gnarled old man around her tiny fingers.

Somehow, the glorious view made him feel excited to show his wife the key sites. He pointed them out. Iselle smiled back. “That is truly a marvellous sight ….… in its way.” Then she giggled.

Bergon pretended to scowl back at her. They both remembered the source of that particular joke. They had met with the Deputy-Archdivine of Cardegoss and the Archdivine of Visping in the recently taken Roknari city. The Quadrene priest was a man of subtlety and wit, a considerable improvement on their own stuffy and actually rather limited advisor. Mendenal, now he would have been a real bonus on this mission, but he was poorly and had sent the next most senior Temple priest.

After the requisite introductions, they had relaxed with some interesting delicacies, pastries, slices of raw fish and other niblets with tastes unexpected to the visiting tongue.

“As a young man, I visited your country. I enjoyed my journey and, to my surprise, I even visited some of your temples. Somehow, I managed to put to one side my fear and fright at the dreadfulness of each fifth tower. I especially admired some of the architecture and the decorations, the mosaics, the tapestries, the glass windows. In hindsight, I thought the Temple at Cardegoss was wonderful ……. in its way.” He timed the pause to perfection. Iselle had thought for more than a moment that he was being open, truthful and magnanimous. Bare instants later, she admired his skill, the nuanced semi-compliment.

After a moment or two longer, to prevent the naughty priest from being overproud of his semi-insult, she had smiled and offered a response.

“If I were an ordinary invader, I could react to your fourfold subtlety with an extra stroke of mine own. But I enjoy ….... wordplay (the pause was calculatedly as long as his) and I shall store your phrase for future occasions. Of more significant matters, knowing now of your skill at words and timing, I shall ask you to work kindly with my own priests.”

Iselle turned to include her own priest, “In this private meeting, I ask that some considerable effort be made to weaken the divide in your religious views. I know, who could not after recent events, I know that the gods are always with us, ever near us, constantly about us. I know too that the, er, reality of the Bastard is an issue between you both and your followers. But, pretending to be an ordinary person for a moment, for many of us, the gods – whether five or perhaps four of them – do not impinge on every single day of our lives. For many, the daily toil is enough. For such of those who feel less involved with the gods – let us aim to calm the dissent. Surely, the plea of the ordinary man is for peace and a simple life. Should we not aim as high as that?”

The man of Visping lifted a finger to ask to interrupt. “My lady, my priest name is Tolat, and I offer a phrase from my childhood. ‘Not wrong, just different’. I know that there are those who differ from the ordinary, from the expected. I can speak only for myself. I can speak for not a single one of my flock. But mayhap I can guide. I promise that I will not enjoy all of the process but a conflict throughout the area between Four and Five can do nothing but more harm. To take your wording, after years of to and fro between us, the peoples of this land and yours care not if they have been trampled four times or five times. Once was probably enough. I shall aim to weaken the strength of the fourfold hatred of your Fifth. As yet, I cannot see how to do that – but I shall look for a way.”

“We can ask no more. But we shall make a little prayer on your behalf. After all, from our view and it differs little from yours, there are indeed those who are different and separated and even outcast. And we believe that these souls are under the care of the Bastard. Can you not see ways to veer your teaching towards kindness for the separated? As I say, so shall I pray.”  
Tolat raised an eyebrow. “Do I fear that you will pray to the Fifth. Should I fear? As a senior priest of the Quadrene persuasion and now under the sway of Chalion-Ibra, I must listen and try to obey. As a mere human who in my time has had moments of ‘separateness’ and unkindness and even stronger words of disapproval and dislike – yes, those who are different do need more kindness. And perhaps I can ask my four gods to indicate how we might deal better with those who do not fit easily under any of those four enormous cloaks.

“While I shall pray kindly, I know my Chancellor has told me that the Gods can hurt us hugely by listening to our prayers …….. (again the pause was of the calculated length) and delivering their reply.”

The other eyebrow rose this time.

“So, I pray to the gods, especially to those recently involved in changes great to us here in the world, that the suggestion of ‘not wrong but merely different’ take hold instead of the hatred of so many years,” and Iselle clapped and clasped her hands to send the prayer on its way.

“A good prayer ……. in its way.”

They all laughed – knowing nothing of the future.  
\---------------------------------------

Near away, in a nowhere barely a breath distant, at least one of the gods paused.

\---------------------------------------

Having dismissed the two priests and the various courtiers who always managed to hover, Iselle sat for a while with Bergon.

“I think perhaps I shall write to Ista.”

“I note that you now refer to her as Ista rather than as ‘mother’.”

“I think it has to do with her new status. When I think of her as a Saint of the Bastard somehow calling her just ‘mother’ seems too, um, too intimate.”

“Ha. And what will you say.”

“I won’t ask my Sainted mother to keep an eye on Tolat. I would not presume so. Anyway, I suspect the Bastard, if he takes up a stick to stir, will be more skilful than to tinker with Tolat. After a few drinks, perhaps we can guess at the neatest and tricksiest things that might happen – and we will be nowhere near what might actually happen. After all, if the Bastard does intervene, he would use one of his ‘people at the edge’ - the mad, the drunks, the man-lovers, the hunchbacks, the orphans, the bastards and all those out of their place. I need a drink or three more to have ideas complicated enough to offer as a prayer at this time.”

Bergon humphed quietly. Well, it might have had a touch of a sigh or a groan. “Perhaps one of the other senior Archdivines here in Cardegoss will become a drunk, sleep unwittingly with his sister, become addicted to seaweed or take to wearing rainbow patterns or all four. I certainly won’t suggest dreams. Can you imagine anything to compare with Palli’s five. Ghastly.”

“I’m sure that with enough wit we could imagine smaller and bigger and worse and better.”

“I think that we should always remember your Chancellor’s words – and be careful with prayer.”

“That’s a truth. As long as we don’t ask for Tolat’s ideas. They might be taken as another sort of prayer. That might be dreadful; no, belay the ‘might’. I can’t think of a cruelty equivalent to making Tolat’s unwitting prayer come true.”

“Now that’s a truth ……. in its way. And I had no idea you had picked up such nautical terms.”

And this time they just smiled – being unaware of the future.

\---------------------------------------

No further away than a dream, various gods wondered in their turn, knowing not which of the many futures might come to pass; human frailty being what it was in the real world of which the gods knew so little.

\---------------------------------------

During the night, Tolat did dream. He dreamt of divines fighting with each other. He dreamed of dreadful things and, yet, towards the end he had one last dream. He was watching a dance it seemed, where he could not tell how many dancers there were – sometimes two pairs, sometimes four soloists or was it five. Sometimes one dancer alone. And yet the view was always vague, unclear. Then he realized the dancers were not human; their blurred outlines were formed of tiny specks, leaves perhaps. Then he realised that he was seeing the gods and that they were made of souls. As he dreamed, he saw occasional sparks amongst the leafy flickers as it seemed that souls separated from a god. Some went towards another god, some drifted to nothingness. Like most dreams, there might have been a structure – but it was beyond his sleep-drunk thoughts.  
In the morning, he met with his senior colleagues. “I had a dream last night. I don’t know what it meant. I can’t actually even make any guesses as to what it meant. It isn’t giving me a headache, yet, so it may not have been a message from any of our gods. But, just in case, I shall tell you what I dreamt. And I shall tell you what Royina Iselle and Roya Bergon spoke of yesterday.”

“And what do these vile invaders demand?” said the divine of the Brother.

“if their words reflect their thoughts, then they say they look for peace. They talk in terms of kindness and reasonableness and good common sense. This could be taken as ‘don’t make waves and we will not punish you’ – but I think otherwise. They talk much more of what we have in common and how we could work together than how we differ.”

Autumn spoke again, “And the great difference. The fact that they worship that vile Demon, their Bastard. What of that?”

“They spoke some words that have set my own thinking to pause. They spoke of those who are different, those who do not fit within the love of any of the four gods. They reminded me of the many who are in some way treated as wrong rather than different. And I told them of my mother’s phrase from my own childhood ‘not wrong just different’. And it caused me to wonder if there are too many who I set to one side because to love and care for them would be, for me, too difficult. I didn’t like that idea that I was less than generous to those who might need me. Then they spoke of the opportunities for trade. So that rather than each of our nations repeatedly and all too often trampling over the peasants and their crops in the lands we both feel we ‘own’ – wouldn’t true love be to give these peasants some precious time to recover and to grow in peace. Both these ideas seemed to deserve attention.”

“Are they asking us to recognise the Bastard as a god?” screamed Autumn.

“No. I think not. But they may be asking if the gods we love are able to care for everybody equally. I don’t know how to answer that. I need to think about all those who, elsewhere, are said to be under the care of the Bastard. Then I need to think how well these folk are cared for by our four temples. It would worry me if there were gaps for some to fall through. For while we have a system, it is a system operated by mere men and therefore subject to, er, slippage. As both churches say, only the gods are perfect and what is perfect for the gods may not be so clear for men.”

“They are saying …. YOU are saying that the Bastard may have a worthy purpose. I cannot stand for that. I know what my god stands for. I know there are those who weaken, those who no longer feel they are of Autumn. But every man belongs to a god unless they renounce totally.”

“I wish I was as sure. Perhaps I need more dreams.”

“Fie on your dreams, old man.”

“Then, for your sake, Gelan, I shall pray that you too have dreams. Perhaps they shall give you new insight.”

“Fccch,” and with a swirl of his orange and red cloak, the priest of Autumn stormed away.

Tolat, being the Divine of the Father, was left with Mother and Daughter.  “Our friend of Autumn seems angered at the suggestion that ‘different is not wrong’. Do either of you have any insight into his plaint.”

“I have heard told, but I heard it as unkind rumour spreading ugly lies, that as a very young man he had a friend closer to him than brother. And this young man had a sister, closer again than sister. They lived on two farms some way distant in Tavaki. As they grew, the young man stayed slim and slender while the sister grew tall and amazingly strong. When Gelan returned after some years away, he was amazed to find the sister doing the hard work on the land and the brother doing the work in the house. It was as if the man and woman had changed roles and positions. And needless to say, they had taken to wearing the costume for their tasks. The sister wore the tough clothes suitable for outdoor work, and the brother wore indoor clothes. Our friend of Autumn fled to the coast and joined the Order of the Brother as a soldier. Some time later he found his way to the temple. I do not know the truth of the tale.”

“So. Perhaps he has found this difference and seen it as wrong and ugly. I do hope that this current problem does not become a god-sent way to showing him a better understanding. The Royina reminded me of Chacellor Cazaril’s view that the gods deal with us most unkindly when they give answer to our prayers.”

“If true, then for the story to surface after so many years, perhaps there is a god at work,” the Mother noted.

Daughter spoke for the first time, “And as with any of our gods, their lack of comprehension that humans are as different from the gods as we feel the gods to be different from us, so they may push or prod or nudge us in ways that are wonderful for them and uncomfortable to us.”

Tolat stood to signal the end of the conference. “I, for myself, shall pray that my god deals kindly with us even when we do poorly. I shall ask for his kindness. No doubt, I shall get it ……. in his way.”

And, as usual, the others smiled at the variation in his favourite phrase.  
\----------------------------

Time passed. For humans.

Whereas in the instant endless time-vague abode of the gods, souls were garnered in ways unimaginable. Souls still encased in their worldly costumes also sent their prayers. Sometimes a casual prayer from an unwitting voice fitted together with the passing fancy of a god like bramble thorns stick to skin.

One prayer in every many gets an answer – although perhaps not every one was meant as a prayer. But the gods listen according to their own enormous whims. They are not human and we are as far beyond their easy understanding as they are beyond ours. Someone amongst these divines or amongst their acolytes spoke “We don’t understand the Bastard. All we know is that he isn’t a god.”

In all the years, when effects have been followed back to their initial cause, it has never been recognised as wise to suggest that a god is less than godlike.

The Bastard thought for a moment or a year and, as far as a god is able, set certain amenable minions into action with a hoped-for outcome that this particular human would learn of the Bastard’s powers.

And so it came to pass ……. in its way.


End file.
